The Wizards of Atlantis
by Tiffany Park
Summary: A bizarre wormhole mishap sends the Marines of SG-3 to Atlantis, where weird transformations are considered "just another day at the office." Very, very AU. This story seemed to fit more in the Atlantis category than the SG-1 category.


TITLE: The Wizards of Atlantis

AUTHOR: Tiffany Park

STATUS: Complete

CATEGORY: Humor, Crossover, AU. Doubly AU, in fact, but not quite triply AU.

SPOILERS: None

SEASON: AU versions of Season One of both shows.

PAIRINGS: None

RATING: PG

CONTENT WARNINGS: A couple of bad words.

SUMMARY: A wormhole mishap sends SG-3 to Atlantis. Henderson demonstrates a magic touch, which causes Colonel Makepeace to undergo a startling transformation.

ARCHIVE: Please ask.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, and their characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is all Besterette's fault. See what she made me do? I have now officially turned a character into an animal. I'm so ashamed... As you guys all probably know by now, I'm not up on current events with either show. So if anything is off-kilter just look at the category, click your heels three times, and say to yourself, "There's no place like an AU, there's no place like an AU..."

With apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien, H.P. Lovecraft, L. Frank Baum, Gene Roddenberry, Stan Lee, and a host of others...

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Written for the ColRMakepeaceSG-3 at Yahoogroups dot com list.

* * *

The Wizards of Atlantis

by

Tiffany Park

In a cavern under a mountain there worked four Marines. No, not a nasty, damp, chilly cavern, with dripping stalactites and stalagmites, musty smells, and unspeakably slimy monsters. Nor was it an antiseptically contained, negatively pressurized, sterile clean-room environment, either. Instead it was a US-built, DoD-approved, milspec cavern, and that meant semi-decent facilities that could accommodate humans in enough comfort to function, but not so much that they might be tempted to kick back and take it easy.

Our four Marines were not alone in this government-designed hole. In actuality, a great number of other personnel worked there also, both military and civilian. They came in types both high and low: enlisted and commissioned, wingnuts and jarheads, scientists and technicians, cooks and janitors. The cavern accommodated them all, although space was, quite naturally, at a premium.

Deep in the cavern, all this wide variety of trained specialists tended a Great and Magical Ring of Power. It wasn't really magical, of course, but as far as the rank and file were concerned, it might as well have been. However, it was Great and Powerful, not unlike the wonderful Wizard of Oz was purported to have been. For this mighty Ring, built by a mysterious, god-like Elder Race in an age long before recorded human history began, possessed the ability to transcend both Space and Time.

When utilized by adepts of the old knowledge, those who could command its awesome abilities, the Ring of Power acted as a magic doorway. It created portals to faraway worlds, where could be found the strange and the wonderful, and sometimes the dangerous. Curious and exotic peoples populated these new lands, with even more curious and exotic customs, as well as terrible enemies and a startling number of Evil Overlords.

Through the admirable desire to obtain Great Knowledge, and the less admirable desire to acquire Great Weaponry (although of course they had their reasons, and perfectly valid ones, at that), teams of intrepid explorers traveled through the Ring to the far distant worlds it offered. There they would negotiate and trade and study, and sometimes, just sometimes, wage war. For perfectly justified reasons, of course. We are discussing homo sapiens, after all. Not to mention Evil Overlords.

Our four Marines comprised one such team, who traveled so fearlessly through Space and Time. They were not the smartest team, nor the most diplomatic, nor were they the best of traders. But they could wage war like nobody's business, and so were frequently sent out to places deemed troublesome or dangerous.

Thus did all who served in the cavern under the mountain fulfill necessary functions in the government-approved quests for knowledge, riches, and power, and the unofficial personal growth of the questors.

Alas, for while it is true that with Great Power comes Great Responsibility, it is a sad fact of life that Great Power does not confer Great Wisdom.

This all too common human failing was often displayed in all its appalling glory when a team would return through the Portal bearing a technological object of indeterminate origin and unknown function. This stunning lack of common sense would then be compounded when the adepts (who, when all is said and done, really ought to know better) would attempt to activate the device without a thought for the possible consequences or arranging for any useful precautions.

Then again, without human curiosity coupled with thoughtlessness, no one would ever have learned to use the Ring of Power. There would have been no new worlds, no new life or civilizations. On the other hand, there would also have been no Evil Overlords to contend with. Sadly, as is often the case in life, especially in the cavern under the mountain, the bitter and the better walk hand in hand.

One day, on a day much like today, as our team of Marines boldly stepped through the shimmering portal of the Great Ring on yet another expedition to a brave new world, they heard a cacophony of alarms, and then over the intercom one of the adepts frantically shouted, "The experiment's gonna blow!" The warning came too late for them to turn back, and they were whisked away from the cavern under the mountain by forces beyond human ken.

Whatever catastrophe had occurred in one of the many labs in the cavern under the mountain, it caused the four Marines to endure a most horrendous ride. Blinding lights flashed, thunder sounded, and the way was filled with stomach-turning twists and turns that tossed the hapless travelers about like rowboats in a Nor'easter. Unspeakable power surged, and ahead a great, glowing barrier shattered into millions of ghostly shards.

The four Marines tumbled head over heels when the Great Portal finally spat them back out into the real world. Shaken and bruised, they sat on the floor of an enormous room that looked strikingly like an Art Deco cathedral filled with stained glass, while all around them were sirens and alerts and demands for explanations and grim-faced soldiers with guns.

These last wore uniforms of their own country's military. The leader of our intrepid band, Colonel Makepeace, stood up and straightened his BDUs. A disturbingly large number of the soldiers leveled their rifles at him, but he unflinchingly stared them down. From what he could see, he outranked them all.

A woman's shrill voice demanded, "What the hell happened? What was that lurch? How did these people get through?"

"I can't believe it!" a man shouted back to her. "There was a sudden influx of gravitons, then the energy readings went clear off the scale. The power surge blew out the shield."

"Damn. Can you get the shield back up?"

"I think so--give me a minute."

"Make it fast, Rodney."

"We can block the Stargate by dialing out. That'll give me time to fix this mess."

"All right, that'll have to do."

While all this frantic activity went on in the background, the humorless soldiers confiscated our Marines' weapons and belongings, and continued to aim unfriendly guns at them. When at last the commotion died down, the woman descended a staircase and walked over to meet the new arrivals. Her brown hair was mussed, her autocratic features pinched with worry. "Ma'am?" one of the gun-toting soldiers queried as she ventured too close to the uninvited strangers.

"It's all right, Sergeant," she said. "Just keep them covered."

Although the four Marines recognized the uniforms, they had never seen this woman before. "Who are you?" Makepeace asked without thinking.

"That's my question," the woman replied. "I'm Doctor Elizabeth Weir, the leader of the Atlantis expedition. Now it's your turn." She eyed the four men suspiciously. "Your uniforms would seem to indicate that you're from Earth, but that can't be right."

"Yes, ma'am, we're from Earth. I'm Colonel Robert Makepeace, commanding officer of SG-3."

"Makepeace? I've never heard of you." Now her gaze hardened to steel, and her voice became harsh. "You are not from the SGC, although I suppose you think that's a clever disguise. Why have you come here and attacked us? What was that weapon you used on us?"

The four Marines exchanged a bewildered glance at this accusation. Makepeace said, "We didn't use any weapon on you, ma'am."

"You're lying," she said coldly. "For an instant, everything not nailed down was tugged toward the wormhole, then our energy iris shattered. Explain that."

"I can't." Now Makepeace was feeling even more alarmed than before.

She treated the Marines to a smile so icy they all got goosebumps. "Is that so?" she said. "Well, I hope you'll enjoy staying in our holding cells, because we certainly don't enjoy being attacked for no reason. Sergeant--" she said, gesturing to the armed soldiers.

"Elizabeth, wait!" cried the man called Rodney. "I think they're telling the truth." He and another man came down the stairs, and joined the group in front of the now inactive Stargate. The second man wore the uniform and insignia of an Air Force major, but had a decidedly non-regulation haircut. Rodney said, "Elizabeth, we've got a big problem."

"Tell me something I don't know, Rodney."

"No, you don't understand. These people," and here Rodney made a sweeping gesture at the four luckless travelers, "are not from our universe!"

This dramatic pronouncement startled all present, even shaking the Ice Queen out of her haughty demeanor. "What are you talking about?" she asked sharply.

Rodney straightened as every eye in the room focused on him. "According to my instruments, right before these people arrived, a sudden influx of gravitons appeared from the vicinity of the Stargate. That was what pulled everything toward the wormhole. Then the gravitons just vanished, which is why the effect was only momentary. They didn't originate from the wormhole, but from the space occupied by the Stargate. This is amazing. It all must have been caused by the energy surge, but I've never heard of one this dramatic," Rodney mused. "It must have been the naquada..."

"Rodney," Doctor Weir said with impatience, "what are you talking about?"

"Yeah, McKay," said the Air Force major with the unkempt hair. "If you know something, spill it."

And thus McKay did spill, much to his listeners' dismay. He spun an incomprehensible yet frightening tale of space-time and naquada explosions and energy surges that caused wormholes to go haywire. As he spoke, his hands gestured dramatically, as might a wizard's in times of yore as he worked his incantations and spells. Of course, McKay wasn't a real wizard who could do real magic, but as far as our four Marines were concerned, he might as well have been.

"So they're from another universe," said the major, bringing an end to the monologue. "Boil it down to words of one syllable, Mister Wizard."

"That's Doctor Wizard to you, Major," said McKay with a sneer. "Look, this is going to sound insane, but--"

"It already sounds insane," Colonel Makepeace said. "Another universe? That's pure science fiction."

"You don't know about parallel universes?" McKay asked in surprise. "Colonel, what's the date?"

This apparent non sequitor caused the four Marines to stare blankly at him for a few moments. Finally, Makepeace said, "It's May 20, 1998."

"Huh, that explains it. You people haven't found the quantum mirror yet," said McKay, looking down his nose. "For your information, Colonel, today is November 15, 2004. Earth calendar, that is. Here in the Pegasus Galaxy, of course, dates and times don't really match up with Earth, and--"

"It's what year?" said Makepeace incredulously.

Another of our Marines, Corporal Henderson, squeaked out, "Did you say Pegasus _Galaxy_?"

"Yes, Corporal, it's true," Rodney said, with hardly a glance at the panic-stricken young Marine. "You're not just in a different universe. You're also in a galaxy far, far away."

Makepeace said, "Look, just wait a minute, um, McKay is your name?"

"Doctor Rodney McKay," he said, emphasizing his title self-importantly.

"Right. So why do you think we're from another universe?" Makepeace looked around, taking in the variety of Earth humans and Earth uniforms. "This looks like an Earth outpost to me, although the SGC's got nothing so advanced. Maybe," and he couldn't believe he was about to suggest something so ridiculous, but he went ahead anyway, "maybe we're just from the past." And that sounded just as absurd as what Doctor McKay had postulated.

"Oh, please. Of course, you're not from our universe. Nobody's ever even heard of you. The only other option is that you're from a quantum alternate reality, but the evidence is against that, which is good for you, because if you were Entropic Cascade Failure would kick in."

"Entro-what?"

"Entropic Cascade Failure. It means you can't exist in this quantum alternate reality if it already contains a version of you. Entropy builds up, and after about forty-eight hours or so you'll die when our quantum reality rebalances itself."

This most certainly was not welcome news. "Okay, that's bad," was all Makepeace could think to say.

"But quantum alternate realities branch off from decision points, just like divergent timelines. That's how the Many Worlds Interpretation of quantum mechanics works. And of course, in 1998 nobody at our reality's SGC was playing with enough naquada to create an explosion as big as the one that brought you here."

"What's naquada got to do with this?" asked Doctor Weir.

McKay sniffed. "The readings on my instruments indicated that the wormhole was overloaded by a naquada explosion. It all makes sense. The vanishing gravitons, the really big explosion, people from another universe..."

The major said, "Maybe it makes sense to you, McKay, but explain it to the rest of us, will you?"

"Look, there are many different theories about parallel universes. The ones the SGC's had experience with are divergent timelines and quantum alternate realities created by decision point divergences. But there are also cosmological pinched-off bubbles of space-time, and the branes of string theory. I think that's what we've got here."

"Brains?" said Makepeace.

"Exactly. Branes," McKay said excitedly. "String theory branes. Under normal circimstances, gravitons are the only particles that can pass freely between branes. That's why the influx of gravitons vanished so quickly--they just moved on to a different universe. Somehow, the explosion must've created some kind of intersection between their brane and ours!" At everyone's blank looks, he said impatiently, "Think of branes like different floors in an office building, for lack of a decent analogy you people can comprehend. For example, the top floor might be our universe, and the sub-basement might be theirs."

"Hey!" Makepeace protested.

McKay treated him to a condescending sneer. "Oh, please. This is a good thing. You're lucky you're not from a quantum alternate reality created by a decision point divergence. At least you won't have to worry about ECF."

"Right. So, about this ECF. You're sure it won't affect us? We're not going to die?" Understandably, Makepeace wanted a conclusive answer to this very important question.

"I don't think so, no," said Doctor McKay. "It's all about branes instead of divergences, you see. A parallel universe rather than an alternate reality."

"There's a difference?"

"Oh, yes, an enormous difference. Many enormous differences, in fact." He proceeded to explain in excruciating detail, but none of the four Marines understood the language of wizards, and it all flew right over their heads.

Now, our Marines might not have understood the particulars of Doctor McKay's explanation of the uncanny forces at work, but they did grasp that ECF was a very bad thing that would kill them. The fine technical distinctions between divergent timelines, quantum alternate realities, pinched off bubbles of space-time, and string theory branes might be beyond them, but they could appreciate the survival advantages some of them held over the others.

After this disturbing issue was settled, Doctor Weir decided that Doctor McKay should take their new guests to his lab and try to figure out how to send them home. So he and the Air Force major and a few extra guards escorted the lost Marines from the Art Deco cathedral that served as the control room of Atlantis.

On the way to McKay's domain, they learned that the Air Force officer's name was Major Sheppard, and that he was in charge of the military contingent of the expedition. Which was why he got away with wearing such an unlikely and unprofessional hairstyle. Not one of the Marines could look at him without feeling an almost overwhelming urge to pin him down and shave his head. They all heroically resisted this temptation for good reasons, not least of which were the hard-eyed guards who kept watch on them throughout the trip.

Doctor McKay's lair quite possibly contained the largest and most confusing jumble of treasure and trash anyone on SG-3 had ever seen. Not even the infamous Doctor Jackson hung on to so much clutter. While the Marines looked on, McKay irritably chased the guards out of the lab. "Go on, get out, you're not needed here," he said, making shooing gestures with his hands.

They looked to Sheppard, who nodded and tapped his earpiece. "Wait outside. I'll call if we need you." He doubted their new guests would be a problem. Indeed, current events had caught up with the four lost Marines. It wasn't bad enough that they were in a strange, new galaxy. Oh, no, they had to be in a strange, new universe, as well. They felt as stunned as clubbed seal pups, and weren't inclined to make trouble.

The Marines of SG-3 wandered aimlessly about the lab. Laptop computers and a wide variety of technological bric-a-brac littered every available surface. Sergeant Andrews inspected a bright green mass of coils that had caught his eye, and Doctor McKay snapped, "Don't touch anything, any of you." Andrews scowled at him, but complied with the impolite request by backing away from the counter.

Sheppard folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall, watching with smirking amusement. "He's always telling me that, too," he said to the room at large. "Except for when he's asking just the opposite. I tell you, the man just can't make up his mind."

McKay gave him the evil eye. "You military types are all bulls in china shops, just looking for breakables to destroy by accident. If I want any of you people to paw at something, I'll let you know."

No sooner had he spoken than a sound like wind chimes tinkled through the air. A blinding flash of pink light momentarily had everyone shielding their eyes. When it faded, McKay gazed heavenward and said, "Why me?" His distempered glare flicked from person to person. "It's just my luck that one of you jarheads has The Gene. All right, who touched something after I specifically told you not to?"

An abashed Corporal Henderson tentatively raised his hand. He was the youngest member of SG-3, and at the moment he looked as timid and wet behind the ears as the greenest of newbies.

"Congratulations, Corporal. You're the newest member of Atlantis's most exclusive club," Sheppard drawled. "At least you didn't create a disaster during your initiation."

"Um, I wouldn't go so far as to say there isn't a problem." Henderson gulped loudly and gestured to his right.

The source of his trepidation was clear. To one side stood a delicate looking, perfectly formed, miniature horse. With wings. It might be called a reasonable facsimile of the mythical winged stallion Pegasus, but for two exceptions:

One, it was only three feet tall, from the bottoms of its precious little hooves to the tips of its charmingly pointed ears.

And two, it was pink.

The mini-pegasus gazed at them with large, mournful black eyes that were framed with dark, curly lashes. Its short, plush fur was pale pink. Colored a darker rose, the overlong hair of its mane and tail looked silky smooth. The feathers of its wings were also of a dark rose hue. Uttering a whinny that could only be described as hysterical, the tiny winged horse stamped its dainty hooves and flapped its wings in an agitated manner.

"Now there's something you don't see every day," observed Major Sheppard.

"Oh. My. God." Lieutenant Johnson stared at the small pegasus. He whirled, looking around the lab and counting heads. "Oh my God. Where's Colonel Makepeace? He's not here!"

"Yes, he is," said Corporal Henderson, very quietly, while wishing he could crawl into a hole and die.

"Oh. My. God." Johnson repeated. "Oh my God. Ohmygod. Ohmygod." It had become his mantra. He repeated it obsessively and pulled on his hair with both hands.

Andrews had a better grip on things. "How'd this happen?" he asked, hoping someone here could clear up the mystery and better yet, fix things.

Doctor McKay said, "Obviously, Corporal 'I'm An Idiot' here activated an Ancient device that transformed your colonel into...that." Even the obnoxious McKay appeared somewhat taken aback by this startling event, although not nearly as much as one might expect.

"He's so...little," said Sheppard.

"Of course," McKay said dismissively. "Conservation of mass and energy. The colonel was, what, about ninety-one, ninety-two kilograms? That's approximately two hundred pounds to you Yanks," he added with a sneer. "I'd say the horse is the same. It's just distributed differently. Those wings alone take up a large chunk of his available mass. I wonder if he can fly?" McKay mused, distracted by this fascinating new idea. "From the length of his wingspan, and the small size and apparent musculature of his main body, assuming his bones are hollow, or porous and very lightweight..."

"You two act like this is nothing," Andrews accused him and Sheppard. "It doesn't matter if he can fly or not. Put him back the way he was." He waved his arms impotently.

McKay shrugged, willing to forgo this particular research project. He snapped his fingers at Henderson. "You. What did you touch?"

Henderson's mouth opened and closed reflexively. He couldn't take his eyes off Makepeace the pegasus. "My God, he's pink."

Lieutenant Johnson snapped out of his fugue. "Pale red," he corrected automatically. As Makepeace's second in command, he at all times maintained a firm understanding of the colonel's temperament. Pink, he knew, was not an acceptable color.

"Oh, please," said Doctor McKay, unaware that he was living dangerously. "He's pink."

"Trust me, when he's back to normal and we have to explain this to him, you're gonna want to tell him he was pale red."

"Are you colorblind, Lieutenant? Your colonel is a powder puff, baby blanket, cotton candy pink, miniature flying horse. He'd be right at home with the stuffed toys and ruffled pillows in some frilly little girl's bedroom."

Makepeace the pink pegasus expressed his opinion of this pompous and insulting (if true) statement by making a noise like a belch crossed with a snort. He walked right up to Doctor McKay, his delicate little hooves clicking on the polished floor, and stared up into the man's eyes until he was certain he had McKay's undivided attention. Then, very deliberately, he turned around, lifted his tail, and took a dump.

With a howl of indignation, McKay jumped away from the smelly pile. He alternately shook each of his feet to dislodge the horse dung from his shoes, and screeched, "What is wrong with you?"

Makepeace tossed his well-formed head, and with a contemptuous flick of his silky tail he cantered out of Doctor McKay's domain.

"Good riddance, you barbarian!" McKay shook a clenched fist after the miniature horse. He whirled on the hapless Corporal Henderson. "Now, tell me," he said, enunciating each word slowly and carefully, as though he were talking to a complete and utter idiot. "What. Did. You. Touch?"

Eyes wide as saucers, Henderson wordlessly pointed to an innocuous looking device on the table. Hand-sized, it resembled a Star Trek phaser. One of the Next Generation's vintage, rather than the pistol-shaped weapons from the Classic Series. Upon its shining surface were swirling decorative patterns, all surrounded by runes from the language of the Elder Race.

McKay snatched it up. "Good. With any luck, we can use this transmogrifier to change that...that poop machine back into a man." Poor Henderson recoiled when McKay got right in his face and growled, "I hope your colonel is housebroken when he's human."

"We'd better get after him," said Major Sheppard. With a snicker he added, "Not just to change him back. After all, we can't have him pooping all over Atlantis."

To this snide comment the three Marines made no reply, although fervently did they wish to emulate their absent CO. Of necessity they mastered this crass desire, and agreed to search out Colonel Makepeace and return him to Doctor McKay's domain. They couldn't help but feel sympathy for their leader, and would do all in their power to help him regain his human form.

They followed Major Sheppard and Doctor McKay into the city, although misgivings tainted their hope. For while they knew better than to meddle in the affairs of wizards and scientists, sometimes it just could not be helped.

Now, as for Makepeace, he didn't care for the affairs of wizards or scientists, not in the slightest. The tap-tap-tapping of his four dainty hooves only reinforced his poor opinions of those not-so-worthy individuals. The guards gawked stupidly when he exited the lab, and by the time they had recovered enough of their wits to stop him he was long gone.

People gaped at him as he trotted through the hallways. An intercom announcement rang through the city, exhorting the populace to detain him should they encounter him, but it did no good. Everyone was simply so surprised by the sight of a tiny pink pegasus that they just stopped and stared, and no one made a move to capture him until he was well beyond their reach.

Four legs, Makepeace the pink pegasus discovered, were definitely better than two. He could now outrun any human, and he put that ability to good use as he toured around. He ventured into uninhabited regions, and made excellent time during his sight-seeing expedition. While he had originally left McKay's lair in a fit of pique, now he had become interested in exploring the amazing city for its own merits.

His perambulations eventually brought him to a pier that opened out to the sea. Before this, he hadn't realized that the legendary city of Atlantis was surrounded by endless water. Even while he chided himself for being so dense (naturally Atlantis was surrounded by water, all the old stories said so, after all), the big, blue sky called to a newfound part of his soul.

On pure instinct, Colonel Makepeace spread his brand new wings, gathered his hindquarters, and without another thought leapt into the air.

The intoxicating wind lifted him up, and up, and up. He flapped his wings, utilizing strange yet strangely familiar muscles, his legs moving with the effort as though running. Feathers caught the currents of air, sending him even higher. He gazed down in rapture, amazed by the sight of the shining, jewel-like city, and the ocean glittering in the warm sunlight.

Flying was invigorating and addictive. He soared like an eagle, free of all cares and worries, with the clean scent of sea air in his nostrils. When fatigue crept up on him, he stretched out his wings and glided, catching thermals to rise and circle. Carelessly, he drifted farther and farther from Atlantis, until it disappeared on the horizon.

He might have been concerned, but a wonderful new instinct told him that there was a fertile land mass out there, somewhere in the Wild Blue Yonder. He didn't know if it was scent, or some kind of magnetic homing sense, or even psychic powers for that matter. It worked, so he didn't mull it too much. He followed his nose, and a coastline full of rocks and fir trees came into view.

The long flight caught up with him, and suddenly he felt too tired to continue. He knew his wings and muscles and lungs and heart were all new and untested. He should have started with a shorter trip; he would need to train for endurance if he ever wanted to fly such a long distance again. He decided to head for the shore to catch his breath.

Upon landing, his slender legs trembled and nearly folded under him. This weakness surprised him greatly. He had known he was tired, but he had been too exhilarated with the freedom of flight to notice just how badly he had exhausted himself. After a short rest, he saw a trail leading toward a hill. The top would be a perfect launch point to start his journey back to Atlantis, he reasoned. Besides, it would afford a fantastic view.

He set out on the trail. It was well maintained and easy to follow. After a goodly distance, it bent sharply, curving with the landscape and leading to a humble village and tilled fields of good, rich earth. Sturdy crops grew in the fragrant loam, and the scent of the growing things tickled his sensitive nostrils. He yearned to graze upon the tender leaves and shoots.

Now, although he did not know it, he had come upon the village of the people called Athosians, who lived a simple life of farming, hunting, trading, and gossiping. He folded his wings against his back and stood at the edge of the town, wondering at the dreary monotony of peasant dwellings across the universe, and found himself wishing for a drink. It had been a very long flight over the water, and a very long walk on the path, and he was thirsty, and hungry, and dead beat. And if he desired something a lot stronger than plain water, who could blame him? Flying was a nice compensation for his ridiculous transformation, but when all was said and done it had been a terrible day.

The awestruck villagers came out of their rude huts, moving slowly, so as not to startle this new marvel and cause it to fly off. For his part, Colonel Makepeace couldn't have flown away even if he wanted to, as the muscles in his brand new wings were so tired as to be useless.

One little girl, no more than ten years old but bolder than all the other villagers, walked up and carefully extended a hand, offering a piece of red fruit. Makepeace sniffed at it delicately. It smelled tasty, so he lipped it from her palm and chewed it up. The fruit was nice and sweet and juicy. In thanks, because he could not speak, he butted his head against her arm. She laughed, a delightful sound, and stroked his neck and mane and nose.

When the people saw that he was tame, they all came forward. The children in particular gathered around him, their eyes wide and their mouths big O's of wonder. And why not? It wasn't every day that a dainty pink pegasus came calling on common villagers.

A tall man with long hair and an air of authority exclaimed, "In all my years I have never seen the like. This beast must surely be a sign from the Ancestors to show their favor upon us and our new home. We should thank them by honoring their gift."

The people agreed. Someone slipped a rope around Makepeace's neck. This was not at all to his liking. He tried to roar a curse at them, but it only came out as a distressed, albeit loud, whinny. He reared up, spreading his still useless wings, but no one takes a three-foot tall pink pegasus too seriously. The villagers applauded, appreciating the show and letting him tire himself out. Since he had not yet recovered from his flight over the sea, this did not take very long.

Temporarily subdued, Makepeace let the villagers lead him to the center of their town. There they tied the other end of the rope to a hastily erected stake. They piled sweet scented hay at his feet, and draped garlands of flowers around his neck, and brushed his soft, plush fur until it gleamed in the sunlight, and brought him gifts of colorful fruits and vegetables. They even decorated the pole he was tied to. And all the while their leaders made speeches and gave thanks to strange deities.

Makepeace bore these indignities in affronted silence, although occasionally he tossed his head or fluttered his wings while letting out an irritated snort. Besides, the brushing and the petting felt pretty good, and the food was delicious, so the situation wasn't completely intolerable. Resigned for now, he knelt down in the bed of hay so he could rest his legs. His movements were awkward, of course, because he'd never had to do such a thing as a four-legged beast before. Despite this impediment, he settled into a comfortable position. Lifting his head proudly, he tried to glare at the assembled peasants, but his fine-boned, equine face and his big, liquid black eyes were incapable of forming any such forbidding expression.

The little girls in particular could not resist such a charming creature, and they all came and sat around him, bearing brushes and combs and armloads of loose blossoms. Giggling and chattering and cooing, they combed and braided the long, silky hair of his mane and tail, weaving flowers into the elaborate plaits.

One girl held up a mirror and said, "Aren't you pretty? See? You're so pretty. Pretty pretty."

Yech, thought Makepeace the pink pegasus with profound disgust. He briefly fantasized about expressing his opinion of the makeover with another dump ala McKay. Sadly, that was a terrible idea because he was tethered in place, so he restrained himself. Instead, he yawed his mouth wide, flapped his large, horsey tongue, and made a grotesque noise.

"Ewwwww," said the giggly girls. To his disappointment, they didn't go away.

He snorted, reflecting that now he looked even more like something out of a children's fairy tale, and that if any of his team saw him like this, they'd never let him live it down. Not that they'd let him live down being a dainty pink winged horse, but the little girls and the flowers and the coifed mane and tail were all just too much for any self respecting Marine to handle. He shook his head, tossing his braided mane, and dislodged some of the flowers. Unfortunately, the girls replaced them, and even added a few more.

The afternoon passed in this picturesque, storybook fashion. But all things both good and bad must eventually come to an end. The sun had begun to set, and pale pink streaks (although not quite so true a pink as Makepeace's fine coat) were just lighting the sky, when a cylindrical flying craft landed outside the village.

Doctor McKay emerged from the craft first, talking over his shoulder to the people behind him. "I told you we'd be able to track him easily. Although whatever possessed him to fly over the ocean and come here of all places is beyond me--"

Major Sheppard studied the tracking device McKay carried. "He's definitely in the Athosians' village."

McKay harrumphed, making clear his opinion of Athosians. "Who knows what those halfwits will make of a little pink flying horse. Assuming they've ever even seen a horse before."

The three Marines stepped out of the aircraft. Lieutenant Johnson asked, "They won't hurt him, will they? I mean, they don't know he's not an animal. They won't eat him or anything, right?"

Sheppard and McKay exchanged a concerned glance. They knew the Athosians were hunters as well as farmers and traders, and Johnson's words were just a tad bit worrisome. "I'm sure Colonel Makepeace is fine," Sheppard said, failing to sound confident despite his valiant effort to reassure the Marines.

McKay impatiently shifted from foot to foot. "Of course he's fine," snapped the cranky Canuck. "He wouldn't show up on the life signs detector if the Athosians had barbequed him. Now if you people have finished wailing and hand wringing, can we get on with this and go get him already?"

Henderson said, "You're sure that trans, um, trans-whatever--"

"Transmogrifier," McKay said irritably.

"Yeah, that thing. It will fix him, right?" Fortunately, the device in question was small enough to be easily carried, and at present resided in Doctor McKay's backpack.

"Oh, please. It changed him into a pink pegasus. Naturally it can change him back. I've made all the necessary adjustments. All we have to do is find him and use it on him. No problem." Without waiting for a response, Doctor McKay headed into the village.

The Athosians greeted the group enthusiastically. The big man with long hair said to them, "Greetings, Sheppard. You have arrived on a most auspicious occasion." He smiled hugely.

Sheppard looked around and saw that no one was doing a lick of work. Instead, the Athosians all appeared to be goofing off, something almost unheard of for that hardworking people. Children ran and played, while adults stood in groups, chattering and eating. And peculiarly enough, a great many villagers were carrying flowers.

"Halling, what's going on?" asked Sheppard. "Why the party?"

Halling replied, "The Ancestors have bestowed their grace upon us. Today they sent us a gift to show us their favor. We celebrate in their honor."

Doctor McKay rolled his eyes. Sheppard politely asked Halling, "This gift wouldn't be a pink animal with wings, would it?"

"How did you know?" Suspicion darkened Halling's formerly jovial expression.

"Oh, Lord," said Doctor McKay.

Sheppard said, "Halling, it's not really an animal."

Halling furrowed his brows at this perplexing statement. "Then what is it?"

"It's actually a man. He's just been transformed into an animal." Sheppard sighed wearily. "It's a very long story," he said. He gave an abbreviated explanation of current events, ending his tale with, "--and now we're here to change him back to himself."

Halling had seen enough of the miraculous powers the Ancestors had once possessed to know that the strangest things were not only possible, but probable. He didn't like it, but he knew the new denizens of the City of the Ancestors could bend its power to their will in surprising ways. With resignation, he said, "Very well. I will take you to him, and you will prove what you say."

"Thank you."

"But if you fail to transform him into a man," Halling continued, "the sacred beast will stay with us. It is the will of the Ancestors."

Now Lieutenant Johnson spoke up. "But he's our CO! We can't just leave him here."

Halling looked the upset Marines over, and decided on the spot that the three strapping young men would make good hunters or farmers. "You may remain with us, if you wish to stay close by the sacred beast. You will have to earn your keep, but it will be easy to find useful tasks for you."

All three Marines exclaimed in shock and outrage at this non-solution to their problem. Unconcerned, Doctor McKay overrode them, saying, "Yes, yes, it's an unacceptable arrangement. Now let's go see the cute little horsey, shall we?"

The flowery pink vision at the center of the village rendered everyone speechless. Then the three Marines burst into loud guffaws. The dainty winged horse lay sulking amidst his finery and offerings, somehow giving off an aura of utter exasperation. The little girls of the village had joined hands and now danced in a circle around him, singing a melodious song of thanks to the gods.

At the sound of the raucous male laughter, the girls ceased their dance, and Makepeace struggled clumsily to his four feet. He tried to go to his teammates, but after a few steps came to the end of his leash. He flapped his wings, stamped his hooves, and whinnied angrily. Unfortunately, he was just too small and cute to look imposing, and his displeasure came across as a petulant tantrum.

"Zip it, jarheads," Johnson said to the still chortling Andrews and Henderson, although he couldn't stop his own lips from twitching. To Halling he said, "See, he knows us. That proves he belongs with us, right?"

"We will see," said Halling, making no promises.

McKay got the transmutation device out of his pack. "Trust us, Halling, you don't want that...creature...hanging around for too long. He's got a terrible disposition." He grimaced and glanced down at his boots.

Makepeace snorted and winked. His flower-bedecked tail swished suggestively.

McKay narrowed his eyes. "You'd better not even think of it or I swear to God I'll leave you like this!"

Henderson pleaded, "Colonel, please don't antagonize him."

"Get on with it, McKay," Sheppard ordered.

With a flourish, Doctor McKay pointed the transmogrifier at the pink pegasus. The small machine hummed and glowed yellow, but alas, Makepeace remained a winged horse. The three Marines made unhappy noises, and McKay scowled. "You try it, Sheppard," he snapped, thrusting the device at the other man.

When Sheppard got no better results, Halling grinned in triumph. McKay glowered at the big Athosian, preparing to say something suitably cutting, when an idea suddenly occurred to him. "Of course," he said, snapping his fingers. "I should have thought of that before!"

"What?" asked Sheppard. "You know what's wrong?"

McKay pointed at Henderson. "He caused the initial transformation. I'll bet he's the only one who can reverse it."

"Me?" said Henderson weakly. "Why can't you do it? I thought you said anyone with the Ancient gene could use that thing?"

"Yes, but obviously this device has somehow keyed the transformation to you. You initiated the process, so you have to undo it."

Poor Henderson fidgeted under the scrutiny of his teammates, including the pink pegasus, who stared at him unwaveringly with big, soulful eyes. The last thing Henderson wanted to do was touch that horrible device again, but what choice did he have? "I don't know what I'm doing!" he cried. "What if something worse happens?"

"You think Sheppard ever knows what he's doing when he messes with Ancient stuff?" McKay countered, ignoring Major Sheppard's immediate protest. McKay grabbed Henderson's hand and slapped the transmogrifier into it. The Ancient machine glowed soft rose. "There," McKay said approvingly, "it recognizes you. Now just point it at your colonel like a good little military drone, and concentrate on turning him back into himself."

Henderson's hand shook as though palsied, but he gathered his courage and aimed the glowing device at the expectant miniature pegasus. He furrowed his brow and concentrated, envisioning a human Colonel Makepeace standing in front of him. There was flash of dazzling pink light and the sound of tinkling chimes.

When the light faded, sure enough, a human Colonel Makepeace stood before a weak-kneed Corporal Henderson. A Colonel Makepeace in standard BDUs (and Henderson thanked God that the colonel's clothing had transformed along with the rest of him), with garlands of flowers around his neck, and flowers stuck in his hair and falling on his shoulders. The heap of blossoms on the ground behind him evoked memories of another pile he had left in Doctor McKay's lair.

The little girls expressed their disappointment with the loss of their new toy by uttering choruses of "Awwww" and flouncing away. An ordinary man wasn't as much fun as a pretty pink pony, especially such a grumpy looking man, no matter how many flowers were draped on him.

The rest of the villagers looked on with awe, and also a hint of sadness. They'd just lost their token of the Ancestors' favor, and were as disappointed as the girls, albeit for different reasons. Now the holiday was over, and they'd have to go back to work.

Makepeace, for his part, merely removed the rope leash from his neck and let it fall. He dusted the remaining flowers from his hair, drew himself up to his full height, and said, "Thank you, Henderson."

This seemingly benign statement was more than Henderson could bear. The chastened corporal started babbling apologies and explanations. Colonel Makepeace waved off the groveling with a curt, "We'll discuss it later," and took off his flower garlands. These he presented to Halling. "I think these belong to you."

Halling accepted the garlands with stiff formality. "My apologies," he said to the colonel, sounding miffed rather than sorry. "We had no idea you were human, or we would never have treated you so. The Ancestors be praised that you are yourself again."

Makepeace smiled tightly and nodded. He turned back to his men, and now they could see he looked a little wild-eyed. Johnson nudged Sheppard and said, "Maybe we should go."

This, all agreed, was a marvelous idea. The group from Atlantis made their farewells, and soon they were flying over the sea. During the flight, Colonel Makepeace and Corporal Henderson had their respective meltdowns, and by the time the legendary city was in sight had come to terms. This did not mean that all was well with the two men, but peculiar happenings often occur when one uses a strange device to travel to faraway worlds, and if one wants to continue this unnatural practice, one must of necessity be adaptable.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the two principals of this most recent drama calmed down. Now that things were quieter, explanations were bandied about, and it came out that poor Henderson had still been fixated on being in the Pegasus Galaxy when he'd first touched the transmogrifier. Doctor McKay declared that this was undoubtedly the reason Makepeace had been changed into a small winged horse, rather than, say, an oversized badger (which might have suited his temperament better) or a two-hundred pound penguin. Why he had been pink, McKay refused to even speculate, for which Henderson was thankful for all the rest of his days.

They landed in the great city, and repaired to the medical center, there to be poked and prodded by the resident physician, who could also use the wonderful tools of Atlantis like a true wizard of old.

At long last the four Marines were together again, and all were healthy and, most importantly, human. Now they considered the possibility of going home. After this latest adventure, the US-built, DoD-approved, milspec cavern under the mountain had never looked so good. Colonel Makepeace went to beard the wizards in their lair, and ask when the voyage home could be arranged.

Alas, he soon discovered that a return trip through the Ring of Power was not to be.

Another of the many wizards of Atlantis, Doctor Zelenka, explained that while they and his colleague Doctor McKay had been absent, he had researched how the four Marines had violated Time and Space to arrive at such an improbably distant location so many years in the future of a entirely different universe.

"It was caused by a massive explosion, you see," said Doctor Zelenka in his thickly accented voice. "We already know it was a naquada-enhanced explosion. The energy wave carried the signature of such. It imparted such a tremendous surge of energy to the Stargate that the wormhole became unstable and jumped tracks."

"Jumped tracks?" Makepeace echoed, already becoming confused.

Zelenka inclined his head. "But only in a manner of speaking. I have been analyzing energy signatures and space-time rupture patterns, to try to determine which p-brane you originated from."

"Pea brain?"

"Yes, yes. The wormhole's energy of activation interacted with that of the explosion to create an ephemeral bridge between p-branes, which the wormhole then connected through. Unfortunately, the energy surge was wild, uncontrolled. The connection formed was random. I do not know which p-brane you came from, and I have not found any way to recreate the bridge. According to M-theory, only closed loop strings like gravitons can pass freely between branes, and--"

"Wait," Makepeace said, holding up a hand to stem the flow of run-on jargon. "Why not use the Stargate? That's how we got here in the first place."

"Weren't you listening?" interrupted McKay waspishly. "The wormhole only reached our gate because a massive energy surge created a connection between the two p-branes."

"Pea brains again." Makepeace rubbed his temples, wishing his eyes would stop trying to cross. He felt like he had a pea brain at that moment. "Just what is a pea brain?"

McKay said, "I told you when you first arrived here that we're talking about parallel universes. Can't your feeble brain hold onto a concept for longer than a day?"

Zelenka said, "The bridge was only temporary. It is gone now, with no way to trace it back to its origin. We could, perhaps, create another bridge with a big enough explosion, but there is no way of predicting which p-brane it would reach. It might lead to a brane with radically different physical laws than this one."

"What does that mean?" Makepeace asked.

McKay said, "He means it might be a universe that won't support life as we know it. Frankly, Colonel, you people were incredibly lucky to come here."

"Yes," Zelenka agreed. "Incredibly lucky. Traveling so again could mean a death sentence. And even if you do make it to a habitable universe..." He shrugged, and a gloomy look passed over his face. "Chances are it will not be your own, and you will be no better off than you are now. I am afraid that is the best you can hope for."

Makepeace felt a headache coming on. "Just how many of these pea brains can there be?" he wondered aloud.

It was only a rhetorical question, but McKay couldn't let it alone and answered anyway: "How big is infinity, Colonel?"

Makepeace's headache got worse. A knot formed in his stomach that threatened to strangle the rest of his innards. "So you're saying we can't go home."

Zelenka hastened to add, "Of course, we will keep researching this problem, but the numbers so far are not promising."

McKay said, "We need to run some simulations, of course. I have plenty of data on naquada-enhanced explosions, but none at all on how they interact with the energy of activation of a Stargate wormhole. But it's an interesting problem, and--"

"And we can't go home," Makepeace repeated. "Right?"

The two scientists shared an unhappy look that confirmed Makepeace's worst fears. With a heavy heart, he left to explain matters to his waiting teammates.

So the four lost Marines never returned to their cavern under the mountain, and instead made a new home in the legendary city of Atlantis.

As it turned out, the people of Atlantis also used their own Ring of Power to send teams of explorers to faraway worlds. They studied and negotiated and traded, and sometimes waged war, because even an ancient city of myth and legend must needs contend with villains and Evil Overlords.

This state of affairs suited our four Marines just fine. For while it was true that they were not the smartest team, nor the most diplomatic, nor the best of traders, they could wage war like nobody's business. And if there was one thing they knew how to do well, it was waging war on villains and Evil Overlords.

*** the end ***

March, 2006


End file.
